


thoughts of you aren’t enough

by cgsf



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mild Angst, excessive use of male pronouns (can't help it), mild marijuana use, post-piano scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgsf/pseuds/cgsf
Summary: "Surprising. Lucas would have never described himself with such a word. Nothing about him felt surprising. In fact, he often felt overwhelmingly mediocre—fundamentally predictable—average. He felt neither particularly skilled nor interested in things outside the scope of a rather bland Parisian teenage boy. But the unfamiliar descriptor caused a warmth to seep from within his chest, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. It caressed him with an intimacy that left him drowning in his attempt to construct an adequate response to the unexpected compliment."-----Playing the piano for Eliott was like a key to unlocking an intimacy between the two boys. So Eliott chooses not to respond to Lucille's text and decides to stay in the moment with Lucas.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	thoughts of you aren’t enough

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I watch the piano scene in s03e02, I always wish it would end differently.

**Vendredi 19h38**

_Surprising._ Lucas would have never described himself with such a word. Nothing about him felt surprising. In fact, he often felt overwhelmingly mediocre—fundamentally predictable—average. He felt neither particularly skilled nor interested in things outside the scope of a rather bland Parisian teenage boy. But the unfamiliar descriptor caused a warmth to seep from within his chest, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. It caressed him with an intimacy that left him drowning in his attempt to construct an adequate response to the unexpected compliment.

Thankfully, the vibration of Eliott’s phone interrupted the both of them and gave Lucas a moment to collect himself before he had the chance to embarrass himself. He hadn’t yet decided if he should brush off the comment with a witty self-deprecating remark or accept it at face value, which was absolutely certain to cause him to blush brighter than the sun. But he was not altogether sure that he accepted the interruption for the help that it was.

Eliott looked up from his phone, his expression partly frustrated but contemplative. “I had other plans tonight.” He wasn’t looking at Lucas. Instead, he was looking back at the piano again, as if the instrument might provide him with an answer to his questioning thoughts.

“Oh. Yeah, me, too.” It was an out. Lucas wasn’t positive why he gave it. He didn’t know why Eliott’s admission made his chest burn and his head throb. They hadn’t known each other for long—he couldn’t read the expression on the other boy’s face—and it made nervousness begin to spread across his shoulders, a faint tension building in a familiar pattern that made his fingers twitch minutely where they were spread across his knees. Even though the nervousness made him want to flee, feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome, the moment was still there—providing him with a steady confidence from having made some sort of connection between them. He wasn’t entirely willing to let go of the feeling just yet.

So Lucas reached forward, picked up the joint resting casually in the ashtray on the table between them, and inhaled another rush of the herb before his nerves could get the better of him. He exhaled in a steady stream, closing his eyes for a moment to appreciate the reprieve from his thoughts. It had the desired calming effect. If he could, he would stretch out this moment into infinity—forever living in the _now_ of _Eliott and Lucas._ It was frightening just how _much_ he wanted it to never end. How affected he was by this older boy, whom he knew almost nothing about. In the span of a single week, he’d already carved a space within Lucas that was steadily growing larger by the second. It was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time, and Lucas was certain there was nothing more he wanted right then, but to be right there doing exactly nothing with Eliott.

Slowly opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of the upperclassman staring right at him. His expression was open and caused Lucas’s chest to tighten further. He wanted to look away, the gaze penetrating to a depth he wasn’t wholly comfortable with, but he also couldn’t escape the pull either.

Eliott moved to place his phone facedown on the table and stretched his hand forward to Lucas in a questioning motion. “Right. Sorry.” He reached across the table to hand the joint back. The brush of their fingers was enough to cause Lucas to hold his breath. He broke their gaze and looked around the room. Night had fallen outside the window, but he didn’t want to check the time. It wasn’t as if he had a curfew anyway.

“Let’s go.” Startled, Lucas looked back at him. Eliott was grinning again—that full-face beaming expression that left his eyes barely visible—then he stood up and walked directly to the window and unlatched the lock in the middle. Sliding the frame upward, he stuck his head out, taking in the air, the night sounds, and the darkness that was blanketing the city below. Lucas didn’t know what to think. His confusion must have been felt through his silence because Eliott turned to him and simply stated—“fire escape”—and then he was climbing out onto the ledge.

Lucas took only a moment to look around the room for his hoodie, pulling it on as he made to follow. When he peered through the opening, Eliott was sitting off to the right, his back to the wall and legs outstretched before him, though having to slightly bend his knees because of his height. With a small shake of his head, he climbed out onto the metal scaffolding to join him. There wasn’t much space on the framework before the stairway began, so he had to press himself next to Eliott in such a way that they were touching, but thankfully not intrusively.

Smoke wafted around them with Eliott’s next exhale and then the joint was passed back. Lucas took it slowly, unsure of how many they’d already smoked tonight. The last thing he wanted was to upset his friends further. He’d already ditched them tonight—ghosted, more accurately—and he knew he was going to be really in for it when he returned to school on Monday. But he took a hit, passed it back, and tilted is head back against the wall. He wasn’t here to worry. He wasn’t here to wonder what next week would bring.

Actually, he wasn’t even sure why he was still here. But Eliott hadn’t kicked him out and he wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to leave just yet. In fact, as they sat outside in the night air with the sounds of the city below them, Lucas was almost positive he never wanted to leave. And though it was nowhere near quiet out there, it was unbelievably peaceful.

“I don’t like it in there much.” Eliott’s words cut into the night air like a knife—abrupt and cold—but also with a surprising softness in its tone. Turning his head, Lucas’s gaze caught on the profile of the older boy. He was looking out into the night, a thoughtful but hesitant expression on his face. “My parents come by a lot. And all they ever do is argue with me. They don’t like that I live here by myself.” Lucas didn’t know how to respond. He could see the irritation there, but also a fleeting sadness that he couldn’t explain. He didn’t like it at all. He rubbed idly at his ankle where the hem of his jeans had crept upward. With his knee bent, he could prop his head on it as he tried not to appear too affected by the presence next to him.

“Do _you_ like living by yourself?” He was hoping the question didn’t sound as dumb to Eliott as it did to himself. _Of course_ any newly-minted adult man would want this kind of freedom.

Eliott huffed out a breath next to him. He sounded exasperated, as if it was a question he’d answered too many times already. Lucas wanted to smack himself. The last thing he wanted was to break whatever it was that had been building between them all evening. Eliott must have noticed Lucas’s momentary regret, because he shook his head and turned to look at him—“I do. I mean, I like having my own place where I’m not being watched twenty-four hours a day.” He took a breath and gave Lucas a small smile. “I prefer the autonomy. I do.” Lucas could feel the tension rising in the other boy. It seeped from him in almost tangible waves that made Lucas’s throat clench.

The expression on Eliott’s face only deepened. It was as if there was another conversation happening within the silences. His thoughts were so loud, Lucas was almost sure he could spell them with his fingers if he lifted his hands to the air in front of them. So he waited. He knew he lacked the experience to understand the depth of Eliott’s frustration, but he could at least listen as the other boy confided in him. It gave him a thrill knowing Eliott trusted him that much in the infancy of their relationship—enough to share this intimacy with him.

“They only allowed me to get this place if I agreed to certain conditions. And I know I can say no; I’m old enough to make my own decisions. But they’re helping me pay for the place. I can’t afford it right now on my own,” Eliott explained.

 _That makes sense,_ Lucas thought. It painted a completely different picture now. As if the apartment were an extension of Eliott’s family’s home—a place where he could get away, but only so far. He wondered how short the tether was. When Eliott handed the joint back to him, he took it quietly; it was almost burned to the end.

“I’m supposed to check in with them every day and they make sure to come by at least once a week. Honestly, even that wouldn’t really bother me too much. But every time they’re over here, they spend the entire time either complaining about everything I do or trying to convince me to move back home. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being treated like a child who can’t take care of himself. They don’t trust me at all. I don’t know what else I can do to make them change their minds about me. I’ve done everything else they’ve asked. More than I think I should.” He paused, a bit out of breath from the rush of words.

And he didn’t look at Lucas at all while he spoke this time, as if he were afraid of the other boy’s reaction. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, wringing helplessly to control the emotion Lucas could feel radiating from him. He wanted to reach out and touch Eliott, as if it might ground him, pull him from the torrent rising with him. But he hesitated. He always hesitated. And in this—this moment where he was alone with a boy and filled with such overwhelming trepidation and excitement for the newness of it—he was more fearful of miss-stepping.

He turned his head on his knee so he was looking right at Eliott. He kept his expression soft, hoping a sense of understanding could be read there, even though Eliott was looking down at his own hands. He hoped his presence alone would be enough to provide at least a small comfort.

“I don’t like being alone, though. I never wanted that.”

It was almost a whisper, but Lucas heard it— _he felt it_. He felt the loneliness and fear and unsteadiness envelope them in the darkness. He felt the ledge Eliott was standing on, as if he were standing right there alongside him. It ached. It felt like claws digging into the flesh of his breast, penetrating muscle and tissue and bone—blood and breath escaping through the cracks.

This time he didn’t hesitate. He ignored the panic pounding at his chest— _what are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing—_ and made a decision. After stubbing the final bit of the joint into the metal mesh to his left and placing it down on the windowsill, he slipped his right arm around the hunched form sitting next to him. His left arm reached around Eliott’s front until he could clasp his hands together. And because he actually was feeling somewhat embarrassed by the maneuver, he buried his face in the older boy’s shoulder to hide the blush he could feel painting his cheeks in the barely-there moonlight.

But he still didn’t know what to say. He had no promises he could make. He didn’t know how to reassure someone who felt so lonely. It wasn’t like he could make it go away. But he wanted to. He wanted to tell Eliott that he didn’t have to be alone. He wanted to say that they could stay there forever, never leave the fire escape. Never let the moment end. Because at this moment, he felt so warm with him. He felt a part of something with him. That even though nothing had happened between them, something had changed.

So he held him. The tightness of the embrace allowed him to feel Eliott’s chest move with every breath. It allowed him to share the warmth he felt. And Lucas hoped it allowed Eliott to feel something other than the desperation pulling him under. He hoped it was something.

The night sounds around them filled the silence between them. He listened to the noise, their breaths, and the loud pounding of his own heart—so loud, he was afraid Eliott could hear it, too. But if Eliott could trust Lucas with his heart, Lucas could do the same. He could offer his own vulnerability in response to Eliott’s. In a way, it was comforting. It was a particular trust he never thought he’d allow. At least not so soon.

Suddenly, he startled at the feeling of a hand in his hair. His face was still hidden in the cotton t-shirt over Eliott’s shoulder, so he hadn’t seen him move. But there was no mistaking it—fingers pushed his hair back from his face, threading through the strands in a tender movement. If his eyes weren’t already closed, the delicate fingering through his hair would have done it for him. It was slow, soft, and unbearably intimate. His breath stuttered for a moment, because the sensation was almost too much. It caused goose bumps to gather across his arms; and if it weren’t for the sleeves of his hoodie, he knew Eliott would notice them.

“Thank you for being here.”

“You invited me. How could I say no?” He tried to keep it lighthearted because he wasn’t sure he could bear any more tenderness between them in that moment. Not without questioning their trajectory, at least.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to come. You barely know me.” It was filled with a plethora of unsaid thoughts that made Lucas’s heart ache. He lifted his head slightly from Eliott’s shoulder so he could make eye contact. The once awkwardness he felt at their closeness was replaced with the need to reassure the other boy.

“I wanted to come.” And the fear that he lived with constantly that kept him from being himself, from admitting to himself what he really wanted, who he really was, attempted to hold him back right then, but he pushed it aside and let the words escape him—“I’ve wanted to know you. To get to know you, I mean.” Eliott was still looking forward, and he was thankful for that bit of distance as he continued speaking. “You’re interesting to me. Ever since I met you, you’ve been interesting to me.” And he was almost self-conscious by his tendency to repeat himself when he’s nervous, but was too focused on getting the right words out.

Then Eliott was turning toward him. His eyes were glassy and filled with _so much_. So much that Lucas couldn’t interpret. But it spilled between them, blanketing them together as if the feelings were both of theirs. As if they shared not only the same space and breath, but the same mind. He could feel it all, even if he couldn’t name every thought.

“You’re interesting to me, too.” The hand in his hair slid down slowly to the back of Lucas’s neck in a soft grip that neither pulled nor pushed; it simply held him there, as if Eliott was afraid their proximity would suddenly become too much for either of them. “When I first saw you, I knew I wanted to know you.” And _that_ made Lucas grin, unable to hold back the expression as the words took root within him.

“Well at least some things were interesting about that meeting.” He felt a tiny bit guilty for again referring to the meeting in such deprecating terms, when he knew Eliott felt differently about it, but he couldn’t help it. His attempts at humor weren’t always his best. Far from it.

But Eliott shook his head slightly. “I saw you before that.” He slid his hand from Lucas’s neck, down his shoulder and arm, until he could clasp it around the forearm stretched across his chest. His other hand came up to join it. The warmth of Eliott’s fingers breached the fabric of his hoodie until Lucas could feel every press, each finger, scorching his flesh where they touched. The movement alone caused his face to flush again—he was never able to fight it when it happened—but at this point, he wasn’t sure if the blush had even cleared from earlier. His face was bound to be permanently rouged by the end of the evening.

“I saw you the first week I arrived. You were walking with your friends in the hallway. I saw you and knew I wanted to meet you.” Lucas wasn’t sure how to interpret that—and the ambiguity of the entire evening was threatening to interrupt the atmosphere that had established itself around them. He wanted to know what Eliott meant. But the uncertainty of his own feelings made him unable to question Eliott’s. He felt something for Eliott—something _more_ —but it was also something he couldn’t name. And if he couldn’t give voice to his own thoughts, he knew it would be unfair for Eliott to clarify his own. Lucas settled for having the honesty alone—them being able to express these thoughts without fear of judgment.

Nonetheless, Eliott wasn’t privy to the conversation Lucas was having with himself, so he continued on unabated—“You’re so pretty.” If Lucas thought that those words came from nowhere, he didn’t have to say it; it was spelled out across his face. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened without his permission. Well, that definitely clarified some things. He wasn’t sure if it was the couple beers they’d had earlier, or the marijuana coursing through their systems, but Lucas was no longer sure of what was happening. If he was really there on Eliott’s fire escape, late on a Friday night.

He had so many questions. So many thoughts. Each thought was barreling into each other, making speaking difficult. And if he said the wrong thing… well, he knew he could really fuck this up. And that was the last thing he wanted. But Lucas knew by now, Eliott waited for no one. He did and said what he wanted, as if the moments would escape him without the chance to live them.

“You are. I thought you were the moment I saw you. Those large blue eyes.” He paused for a moment, letting his eyes drift down and up Lucas, as well as he could within their close proximity; and by the look on his face, Lucas knew he was up to no good. “How _tiny_ you are.”

Eliott was giggling before the words were fully-formed. Lucas shoved him away, flabbergasted at the gall. “What?! I’m not tiny!” But his assertion was only met with louder laughter as Eliott fell over, landing casually on the stairs leading up to the next level. They were both grinning by then, even though Lucas wanted to make his point clear—that Eliott was wrong, and he was not allowed to think such things about him. Only, Eliott was nodding, laughter making him unable to respond, but the movement and the expression were enough for Lucas to feel like he was plainly losing this point, even though he’d had the last word.

Eliott was so smug. And he wanted to wipe it right off the older boy’s face. So he reached out and pushed him again for the sake of neither knowing what else to do nor how to counter the point, when it was obvious that the height difference between them was indisputable at best. However, Eliott anticipated further retribution, and he grabbed the hand before it could make contact, yanking Lucas into his lap before any other protestations could be made. It caused him to let out an embarrassing yelp as he connected with the firmness of the other boy’s body.

With one hand still gripped in Eliott’s, his other hand slammed into the metal grate of the steps behind Eliott’s head in order to keep himself balanced, causing him to wince at the contact. He immediately pulled his hand back, letting his body fall further into Eliott’s embrace. And then there was silence as they both became immediately aware of their position.

Lucas fought the urge to withdraw, because Eliott was so warm and he wasn’t pulling away. Instead, he felt the boy’s arms reach around and pull him closer, as if that were even possible in this position. They were a tangle of legs and arms and his hoodie had ridden up a little at his right side.

If he thought it was warm when Eliott’s fingers clutched his arm through his jacket, this was an absolute inferno. It blazed between them at every point of contact. Lucas was afraid to lift his head. _Should he be embarrassed that he didn’t immediately pull away?_ From their place on Eliott’s chest, Lucas’s hands spread out slightly across the fabric of the shirt, the muscle moving marginally beneath him. The rhythmic up and down movement was grounding, though.

But the heat didn’t subside, and with each second he was made more aware of the press of their bodies. He was practically straddling the older boy, who didn’t seem to mind _at all._ He pushed upwards with his hands until he could separate them enough to look at Eliott. With how close they were lying, Lucas could smell the detergent of Eliott’s clothes and the cologne he’d put on that morning. It overwhelmed his senses before he got the chance to recover. But when his eyes locked onto Eliott’s, none of that mattered. None of the confusion. None of the doubt. There was a confidence and clarity there in Eliott’s gaze that made his breath catch. His expression was dark and filled with something _other._ It sent another spike of heat through him before he knew what was happening. And being the object of that gaze was something else. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

Eliott slid his hands up from behind Lucas until they reached his face, cupping his jaw delicately. “You don’t know it, do you?” And Lucas was irritated that Eliott expected him to know exactly what he meant. But only mildly. “Know what?” he asked. He kept his expression as neutral as he could considering the circumstances, but he thought that might be asking a lot.

There was a gentle smile on Eliott’s face, an expression so soft and endearing that Lucas was unsure what to make of it. As if Eliott was unaware how intimately they were pressed together. Or, at least, that it didn’t affect him as much as it was affecting Lucas.

“How beautiful you are.” What a word. _Beautiful._ A part of Lucas wanted to reject it altogether for its connotation. That same part was screaming at him that it was _emasculating._ That he should feel threatened by it. He felt it so strongly that it was difficult for him to deny. He remembered spending nights this week in fear that he _might_ be different and someone _might_ find out. That they might out him to the rest of the world. The fear had been almost debilitating.

But for the first time, he felt something else. He felt how true the words felt coming from Eliott. How much conviction painted the admission. It was more than a compliment. As if Eliott knew Lucas needed to hear it. Like the air he breathed, he needed it. He needed to feel and let himself feel. And he needed to be comfortable in what he felt.

The hands splayed along his neck and jaw moved up into his hair, moving in slow motions, disrupting the strands in an array that felt soothing but also measured and intentional. Lucas continued to look down at Eliott, whose expression stayed calm and comforting. The burning in his chest made him yearn to look away, but he knew he couldn’t. That Eliott was engraving himself on his soul with that one look.

“You don’t know what you do to me.”

And _oh._ Lucas felt _that._ The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off Eliott during the meeting in the foyer. The way he tried to be casual by searching the cafeteria during lunch each day, hoping to find Eliott in the room. The way he currently couldn’t look away. He hadn’t been able to ignore the pull; but he had been naïve. He never thought Eliott would feel even remotely the way Lucas did. He was sixteen. And though it felt nothing like the way he’d felt for anyone else, he still felt young and inexperienced with this type of thing. Not to mention, Eliott was the first boy he’d felt this way about.

He had wanted to guard it—it was so incredibly precious to him. It was a _first_ and not every first could be identified in the moment, and they were often overlooked, forgotten amidst every other moment that happens after. But Lucas _knew._ He knew as soon as Eliott had walked into the room. He knew it when they’d locked eyes. He knew it when he watched the taller boy rub the pads of his fingers across his lower lip as he stood at the bus stop. He _knew_ he had to have him.

With a confidence he felt he was entirely faking, he moved his palms up Eliott’s chest until they met behind his neck. He took the time to memorize the sensation of their skin touching. The way Eliott’s t-shirt hung lower in the front, exposing his collarbones and more skin than Lucas was sure he could cope with right then. He let his eyes follow the path of his hands, marking every freckle in his mind, as if this might be the only moment they’d have like this. When his eyes met Eliott’s again, he raised a questioning eyebrow—“And what is that?”

Instead of answering, Eliott pulled him forward, erasing the space between them. Lucas had only been prepared for more... flirting. _Had they been flirting?_ But his thoughts were interrupted as soon as their lips touched. The warmth of Eliott’s lips startled him for a moment as he gasped in a quick breath. He felt none of the confidence he usually felt with a kiss. He felt raw and exposed, untethered and vulnerable. But the vulnerability was fueled by the ache knocking against his breastbone—it caused his fingers to clench in Eliott’s hair and his back to lean forward. He wanted closer. He wanted more. He wanted everything. But all he could do was cling to the older boy like an anchor, pulling them both down under the swell of the conflagration encasing them.

So when Eliott tilted Lucas’s head to the side and deepened the kiss, there was no room left for questioning. His tongue slipped between Lucas’s lips effortlessly, as if an invitation had already been extended. Lucas might have felt embarrassed by how quickly he was melting under Eliott’s ministrations, but he was simply too far gone to care. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled into Eliott’s thrall.

The hands in his hair moved silently down his back and across his hips before stopping at Lucas’s thighs. They gripped the fabric of his jeans so tightly, a small whimper escaped him. It caught him off guard so suddenly, he broke from the kiss to catch his breath. He wasn’t prepared to be so affected. They parted with an audible slick of their wet mouths, but Lucas didn’t pull away. He tilted his head back enough to gasp a few breaths in order to regain some semblance of control. And he was—out of control. It was electrifying.

When he looked back down at Eliott, the older boy simply smirked at him. It wasn’t arrogant, only telling—“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes heavy-lidded and still almost completely breathless, Lucas nodded slowly. They were only a few centimeters apart, sharing breath and space and warmth, panting into each other’s parted mouths. He wanted more.

But Eliott shifted minutely under him, which caused a groan to escape unbidden from Lucas as their lower halves were pressed even further together. The firmer point of contact and his involuntary audible reaction made him quickly release his grip on the older boy and cover his face with an embarrassing whine. “Eliott…” It came out in a childish, petulant whimper as he tried to hide his own mortification. However, Eliott was chuckling softly below him, raising his hands to take the smaller boy’s biceps in a firm grip.

“Sorry. It’s just— _ah!—_ this fucking stair is digging into my back.” And before that could register, Lucas was being lifted altogether from the other boy’s lap and moved to the side so Eliott could sit up properly. Lucas’s arms went out to steady himself. They were now sitting across from each other on the landing, and Lucas wanted nothing more than to close the distance again—Eliott felt too far away and the moment was threatening to be over before it had even really begun.

Eliott must have sensed the same thing because he moved quickly to his feet, as elegantly as can be done when your legs take up more than the entire width of the landing. He extended a hand down to Lucas and motioned with the other back toward the open window. “Let’s go make out on the couch.” It was said so nonchalantly that he wasn’t sure he’d even heard him right. But the look on Eliott’s face said it all.

So Lucas slipped his hand into the other boy’s and let a small smile break out on his face—“Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually supposed to be much longer (at least in my head, it was), but it got to a point that felt like a natural end, so that's how I left it. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
